The Tsaesci War
by McFusterCluck
Summary: The Second Great War is over, but a new grand threat is on the horizon, quite literally. Will the nations of Tamriel be able to put aside their rivalries, or will they fall into darkness at the hands of the Tsaesci? *Sequel to A Call to Arms*
1. Prologue

**Hello there, traveler! This is the mighty sequel to "The Elder Scrolls: A Call to Arms." Just to prevent mass confusion among readers, please read A Call to Arms prior to reading this story. If you've read A Call to Arms, you'd know that there are problems with it. However, in this story I shall be taking your guys' criticism's and ideas into account, such as longer chapters. Also, the battles will be much more epic. I encourage my readers to leave reviews, as to help my writing skills. Please enjoy, and may the Divines bless you!**

Prologue

He moved quietly, as not to attract any unnecessary attention from the guards.

Savirien-Chorak kept to the shadows and peeked around the corner into the Council Chambers: they were empty, except for a few guards who stood idly in the room. If Savirien's target wasn't here, then he was definitely up in the tower, presumably in his private chamber. He brushed his hand over the dagger at his hip, making sure it hadn't fallen out of the sheath.

Savirien slid across the stone floor, moving silently down the hallway to the stairs.

At the end of the hall was a door, and a tired guard standing by it, holding a torch.

The guard was not going to move.

He slithered up next to the guard, still remaining in the shadows, and waited for the time to strike.

The guard looked to his left at a painting on the wall, and when he turned back, a green cloud had enveloped his nose, making his eyes roll back in his head. He then fell forward into Savirien's waiting arms, where he put the unconscious guard in the dark corner.

When he woke up, Savirien would be long gone.

Savirien heard a duo of patrolling guards coming down the corridor, so he had to move fast. The serpent-man pulled open the wooden door slightly; just enough to where he could squeeze through. Closing the door behind him, Savirien started up the stairs quickly and silently. He went past the observation level of the Council Chambers, where a guard leaned over the railing.

He kept going up, and looking out the windows to the Imperial City. It was massive now, and mostly rebuilt. It had expanded off of the island and out onto the mainland, easily being able to house twenty five thousand. The lights of the New Quarter went out one by one as people retired for the evening. Savirien could see lone guards patrolling the roads, keeping order.

As he went higher, Savirien could hear chefs preparing the next days meals, and maids cleaning empty rooms.

Finally he came to a large wooden door, that had the symbol of a victorious Empire on it. Savirien wrapped his hand around the brass knob, and pushed it open, leaving it slightly cracked. There was a dark hall, and the left wall opened up into a larger room, where his target stood in front of a roaring fire, along with another man. Savirien slid into the shadows, waiting. His target wore a red and gold tunic, while the other man wore heavy steel armor. Both had swords at their sides.

"How many Legions are ready for war?" asked his target.

"Only seven. That's less than a third of all Legions," came the curt reply from the other man.

"What of the Dominion?"

"They won't share anything of that sort with us," the other man said.

"Understandable," replied the target.

Savirien knew that if he were to strike now, the armored man would rip him in half with his sword. He had to wait. Just then, another soldier entered, carrying a note. "Report from the Dwarves, Emperor Cassius," he said when he entered the room. Savirien pressed himself against the wall further, caught off guard about the new soldier. If he got up all this way, he may have seen the knocked out guard.

"What is it?" asked Emperor Cassius Septim.

"They say that all Thalmor stragglers in their cities are dead," the soldier reported.

"Very good. Give them my thanks," Cassius said.

"Aye, sir," the soldier said, leaving.

Savirien crept into the room, hiding behind a cabinet.

"Is there anything more, my Emperor?" asked the remaining soldier.

"There is one thing, General Ridarius," Cassius began, "Take your Legion to High Rock. Daggerfall, to be exact. If the Akaviri invade, it would be bad if we lost the First Legion first."

Julius Ridarius bowed, and said, "As you wish." And then he exited the room, his armor clattering as he went down the stairs.

Savirien cracked a smile. _Good. Very good,_ he thought as he peeked into the room._  
_

Cassius plopped down into a chair, and started sipping on a glass of wine. Then, he started humming a song.

The serpent-man drew his dagger slowly, and then pulled out a vial of poison. He put a couple drops on the blade, and then put the vial away. He slithered out until he was right by Cassius.

Savirien was ready to plunge his blade into the Emperor's throat, but Cassius got up right before, making Savirian instinctively slide under the table, hissing quietly. Cassius went into the corner, and then came back to the head of the table with a platter of food. He then started eating away.

_Hmph, the greed of men_, thought Savirien.

_I can't get him from here. I must distract him_, thought Savirien.

He saw a stone next to him, and so it was picked up by the serpent.

Savirien aimed for a vase sitting on a table behind Cassius, and was right on target. The vase crashed on the ground, pieces going everywhere.

Cassius jumped up, and turned around.

"Now what in the..?" he said, scratching his head.

Savirien darted out, and went straight for the Imperial.

In one move, Cassius pulled out his sword, spun around, and cut off the serpent-man's arm.

Savirien screamed out in agony, and fell back on the table, blood pouring out from the wound.

Cassius Septim stood over him, the tip of the blade at his throat.

"A Tsaesci," he simply said.

Savirien said nothing, only gritting his fangs.

Cassius took a step back, and said, "Can you speak my language?"

Savirien nodded.

"I may yet let you live. Who sent you?" asked Cassius.

Savirien-Chorak said nothing.

"Very well," Cassius said.

Suddenly, Savirien lunged forward, his claws going to swipe off Cassius' flesh. Right before his hand reached the Imperial's face, Savirien-Chorak disappeared from all sight.


	2. Ataurus I

The door to Breezehome swung open, and out stepped a tall, bearded Imperial wearing a belted tunic. He had an Akaviri Katana in its sheath at his side, and a dagger strapped to his left ankle. He looked up at the sky, where there was nothing aside from a couple of white, puffy clouds. The man watched as the city guard walked along the walls, keeping an eye out for any trouble. The man pulled his blade out of the sheath a little bit, and saw that the blade was dull. The shop Warmaiden's was a house or so away, so the man decided to get his sword sharpened.

He walked down the road, and peeked around the corner to see Adrianne Avenicci hard at work at the smithy. She glanced at him, and then stopped what she was doing.

"How can I help you, Dragonborn?" she asked with a smile, stepping away from the smithy.

"Old Dragonbane here's getting a bit dull, I'd say," the Dragonborn replied.

"Oh? Let's see," said Adrianne, crossing her arms.

The Dragonborn pulled out the sword, and held it out for the Imperial blacksmith to feel. She glided her fingers over the tip, and then exclaimed, "That couldn't even cut through a cheese wheel!"

The Dragonborn laughed, and then said, "I'll pay you four hundred for it to be sharpened."

She looked shocked, "Four.. four hundred? Wow, sure."

At that, she sat at the grindstone, and went to work on the sword.

"You know, I think I could put even the greatest Dwarven smith to shame with my skills," she said.

"They only did just come back," the Dragonborn responded.

"Doesn't matter! They should still have some skill," said Adrianne.

"So, what do think of this Akavir thing?" asked the Dragonborn.

Adrianne turned her head slightly, and said, "It's been three years since it and Tamriel merged, and nothing's happened. So I say that nothing's going to happen."

The Dragonborn shrugged, and said, "You may be right. I was scared during the Great Tamrielic War, because the Argonian king played it up quite a bit."

"Well I mean, we should still remain cautious. You never know with foreign folk," Adrianne replied.

Five minutes later, Dragonbane was as sharp as ever. The Dragonborn handed Adrianne her gold, and was about to take off for the Wind District when Adrianne shouted, "See you at the festival!"

"You too!" yelled the Dragonborn.

Down the road he went, towards the main plaza of Whiterun. Townspeople bought things from the vendors, and some people talked to each other. He had extra coin in his purse, so he decided to take a look inside Belethor's shop. The Breton was a good man, but he had a silver tongue. The Dragonborn had seen Belethor take an old wooden sword from a boy and then turn it around and sell it to another for 500 gold.

The Dragonborn walked inside the shop, and got Belethor's signature line, "Everything's for sale, my friend. Everything. If I had a sister, I'd sell her in a second."

"I could go get my sister, if you like," the Dragonborn joked, pointing his thumb towards the door.

The Breton through up his hands and said, "Your choice," he chuckled, "what shall it be?"

"What do you have as of late?"

"Well, I got this amulet, pretty magical thing. Some Dwarf came in here with it, just gave it to me, no coin wanted," Belethor said, reaching under the counter.

The Dragonborn leaned on the counter and said, "Sure, I'll take a look at it."

The Breton nodded, and then pulled out the amulet; the chain was basic, just some string with little gold rings around it, but the main piece was magnificent. The Dragonborn had seen most ores in his twenty six years on Nirn, but these were different. The main part was definitely gold, but in the center was a jewel that he had never seen before. It was blue, and had a light hum to it.

"How.. how much?" asked the Dragonborn, looking up from it.

"For you, my friend, two thousand."

The Dragonborn nodded, and pulled out his coin purse.

Two minutes later, Belethor was up 2,000 Septim's, and the Dragonborn was on his way.

He kept the amulet in his pocket as he walked up towards Dragonsreach, on his way to see Jarl Balgruuf the Greater. He went up through the Wind District, where Heimskr preached to the passing people of Whiterun. Three years ago, this was something that could have cost the Nord his life, but the Aldmeri Dominion never came for him, for whatever reason. By the Gildergreen sat a couple Legionnaires, talking among themselves and smiling at passing citizens.

The Dragonborn walked up the steps to Dragonsreach, and watched horsemen outside the city walls gallop on the plains.

...

When he got inside the old building and went up to the throne, he heard Jarl Balgruuf say, "Well, well, Ataurus Kalahar, our savior, here to see a mortal man!"

Ataurus Kalahar raised an eyebrow and said, "Great to see you too, Jarl."

Balgruuf got up, and walked over to Ataurus. He got right up in his face, and then started laughing. He hugged the Dragonborn and yelled, "It is wonderful to see you, my friend! When did you arrive?!"

"Just last night. Long ride from Solitude," Ataurus replied.

"Well, I haven't seen you since before the War!" the Jarl laughed.

"Yes, I do apologize for that. There was quite a bit that happened after," said Ataurus as the Jarl sat down.

With a dismissive wave, Balgruuf said, "The Elves shall never be a problem, at least for a while. But Akavir on the other hand.."

"You think something is going to happen?" asked the Dragonborn.

"I don't think, I know. It may happen tomorrow, it may happen a month from now. It could even happen a thousand years from now. But something's going to happen," said Balgruuf.

"We'd win," said Irileth, Balgruuf's housecarl.

"In the end, it would be in Skyrim where the war will be decided. And by decided, I mean the Nords will decide," Balgruuf smiled.

Ataurus changed the topic, "So, festival tonight?"

Balgruuf chuckled and shouted, "Yes! It's our new annual tradition of celebrating the March of Victory, led by you of course! It is an honor to have such a fine warrior here. Well, for an Imperial, at least."

Ataurus laughed and said, "Ah, but it was I who slayed Alduin, the World-Eater, if I'm not mistaken."

Jarl Balgruuf then chuckled, "With my help, no less."

"Yes, you did have a large part after some convincing," said Ataurus.

"Do you know how crazy it sounded when you wanted to trap a dragon in my stronghold?!"

"It paid off, as you know," the Dragonborn shrugged.

"It did. Now, I must take leave. I have a festival to begin!" shouted Jarl Balgruuf, leaving the room.

...

The two man patrol went east, towards Windhelm. They were soldiers of the Imperial Legion, and veterans too. The Great Tamrielic War was where they fought, in the city of Anvil, before their commander became Emperor. Behind them were the lights of the festival in Whiterun, where the men longed to be. They were slightly intoxicated because they brought mead with them, and because they had some before they left on the patrol. Off in the distance, the men saw movement. Lots of movement.

They halted, and then one of them called, "Who goes there?!"

"Leave them be, Rodgir. It's probably that battalion of Dark Elves on their way to Solitude for that competition, remember?" said the other soldier.

Rodgir squinted, and then said, "Ah, you're probably right, Elbor. We should get off the road, so we don't hinder them."

Elbor nodded, and walked off the road, Rodgir close behind.

There was noise coming from the movement in the distance, but it did not sound like marching. It sounded like grass rustling, like rubbing a sheet of paper around on a table.

"That doesn't sound right," said Rodgir, turning his head to face the movement.

There was nothing.

"What in Oblivion is this sorcery?" Elbor exclaimed, pulling his sword out of the sheath.

"Probably nothing," Rodgir said, just as ten beings appeared all around them, swords at the ready. The Nords held their shields in front of them, and had their blades out.

"Is this some Argonian trick?" Elbor laughed, seeing that they resembled the reptilian people.

Two of them looked at each other, and then one rattled his sword to the forest.

"You.. want us to go?" Rodgir asked.

It hissed.

As the two complied, and turned to go towards the treeline, the thing bared its fangs, and pointed his sword at the Nords' own.

"You want us to put down our weapons? Okay," Elbor belched, throwing his sword on the ground.

The circle opened, and the two Nords shambled towards the treeline.

The beings talked in their native tongue for a few moments, and then looked at the silhouette of Dragonsreach, far off in the distance, just as they disappeared.

...

Ataurus enjoyed taking walks at night. It had a certain peace to it. Even though the sounds of the festival in Whiterun could be heard, albeit faintly, nature was all around the Dragonborn. Off in the distance, he saw the giant bonfires of giants, and the silhouettes of mammoths around them. While it was peaceful, whenever Ataurus left a city, he was in his Dragonbone armor, should anyone be brave enough to attack. He looked to his right, and saw mist swirling around the Throat of the World, where one of his closest friends lived.

Three years ago, this was all at stake.

But no longer, at least from anyone in Tamriel.

Ataurus kept to the road, and passed by two deer grazing on the plains. Then, he heard rustling.

He looked around, trying to locate the source.

It was all around him.

The Dragonborn pulled out Dragonbane, and held it in front of him, staring right in front of him.

Then, a massive steel greatsword appeared out of nowhere, and shattered Dragonbane in half. From behind the greatsword, a being became visible from behind it.

Hooded and cloaked, that was what it wore.

Under the hood, it could easily be mistaken for an Argonian.

All around Ataurus were ten of these things. They were taller than him, and moved with their tails.

Out from his sheath came his second sword, Red Eagle's Bane.

"What is this devilry?!" he demanded.

The one that towered over the rest hissed.

"Stand back, I'm warning you!" the Dragonborn growled.

"_Dovahkiin?"_ it asked.

The Dragonborn raised his sword, where it was against the things chest.

The hood cocked to the side.

"I am the Dragonborn. Who are you?!" Ataurus demanded.

In their native tongues, the ten said things among themselves.

"Speak quickly," said the Dragonborn, inching closer to the Hooded One.

It revealed a blade with markings on it, in writing the Dragonborn could not understand.

"So be it," said Ataurus.

He swung at the Hooded One, which blocked the strike with a single hand. But it did not counterattack. Ataurus locked blades many times with it. Finally, the Hooded One struck back, ripping the sword from Ataurus' grip.

Ataurus then unleashed his one unmatched power.

_FUS RO DAH!_

The Hooded One flew back, squealing. The other ones pulled out swords of their own, and held them at the ready. The main Hooded One came back, and held Red Eagle's Bane out in his hand. Ataurus took it, and immediately attacked again.

Using all his might, he gained the upper hand, right as the other Hooded Ones attacked.

They picked him up, and threw him to the ground.

All ten stood over him, blades at the ready.

"Back you devils!" yelled the Dragonborn, scrambling back.

_YOL TOOR SHUL!_

All of them caught on fire, and then the lead one lunged at him, impaling his blade into the Dragonborn's shoulder

"Gahhh!"

Right then, all of them disappeared from sight.


	3. Julius I

The ground was blanketed with thick layers of snow, and footprints trailed behind the massive army of men marching west. They had passed through Cyrodiil, entering Skyrim just one night before, right after their general's meeting with the Emperor. The soldiers in the First Legion were accustomed to the cold after rooting out an Aldmeri Dominion army in northern Skyrim four months after the end of the war. Sounds of laughter and shouting echoed through the forest, alerting deer to their presence. The men chopped down a few trees for firewood, but did not deforest the area by any means.

General Julius Ridarius was a son of Bruma, where winter and worship were the only surefire things. Because of his upbringing, he held nature in a deep regard. He was also one of the few generals in the Imperial Legion that believed that the Tsaesci were going to exact revenge for the Imperial invasion centuries ago.

Personally, Julius wanted the First Legion on the line, right up against Akavir, ready to defend Tamriel against the hordes of foes behind the Lifeless Peaks, so named because none lived on them. But Emperor Cassius Septim thought otherwise, for good reason. It was the First Legion that held the Imperial City along with the Tenth from Skyrim, now commanded by Legate Marese Rikke, the legend from the Nord homeland.

Of course, Julius had contingency plans of his own.

Should the armies of Akavir invade, General Ridarius would bring the First into Cyrodiil, right to the frontline, on his own commands. He respected the Emperor, but to not have the best Legion engage in battle would be pure madness.

But for now his Legion would be stationed in Daggerfall, capital of High Rock, the Breton homeland. His men huddled around small campfires, heating up meat bought from vendors on their way into the province.

Julius sat in his tent, reading the _Report on the Disaster at Ionith_. The general had picked up a special edition, that had much more content in it, such as army sizes and other factors. The Tsaesci were masters in the arcane arts, if this report was correct. Julius couldn't help but chuckle at the part about how Emperor Uriel Septim V lead his Legions against a much larger Tsaesci army, completely routing them.

_Oh, how I wish they would be afraid of my Legion,_ thought Julius, flipping the pages.

The flap folded back, and a young Redguard walked inside, holding his helmet.

"General Ridarius," he saluted.

Julius kept his place in the book with his finger, and closed the pages around it, saying, "Ah, Legate Iancan. What is it?"

"The clouds are breaking up, sir. We can resume the march, and break down the camp," the Legate said.

"Ah, very good. Get the Legion ready to move in ten minutes. Have them form ranks. We make haste to High Rcok!" said Julius, sliding the book into his rucksack.

"Yes, sir!"

...

As the men broke down their tents and began to form ranks, they saw someone approaching. A courier.

"General Ridarius! General Ridarius!" he called.

Julius walked out of his tent, placing his helmet on his head, and saw the courier, who struggled to run in the thick snow. Julius started walking over the the young lad, and stuck out his hand.

"Message?" he asked.

"Aye, General. Straight from the Emperor himself," said the courier.

Julius opened the piece of parchment and read:

_To All Standing Commanders in the Imperial Legion,_

_On the night of First Seed 3rd, Year 204, I was in the White-Gold Tower, attending to my business just after a meeting with one of you, when there was an attempt on my life. Luckily, I sensed something was wrong, and I wounded my would-be assailant by taking off his arm. What is even more shocking is that this assassin was a Tsaesci, from what I could perceive. If you do not know what a Tsaesci is, all you need to know is they are presumably the strongest race in Akavir. Due to the place from where my assassin came, I am raising the Imperial Legion on full alert. Should any warfare happen, it shall undoubtedly happen first in the lands of one of our most trusted allies: Argonia. If they are attacked, the Sixth, Fourteenth, Tenth, and Second Legions shall move into wherever the fighting will be. If you are one of the Generals of these Legions, please report to the Imperial City. All other Legions, resume your business._

_Signed, Emperor Cassius Septim._

Julius stuck the note in his pocket, and stared up at the sky, slightly shaking his head.

"There is another one, sir," the messenger said, pulling out another note.

Julius grabbed the note and pulled it out of the courier's loose grip.

It read:

_To General Julius Ridarius, of the First Imperial Legion,_

_I am assuming you read the letter that was sent to all commanders before this one. It is no lie, for no less than five minutes after you left, I was attacked by a Tsaesci. The rumors are true, as it looked like a serpent. I was able to take off its arm, but the bloody thing disappeared. It didn't go invisible, it just was gone. I even had mages search the building, but nobody was found. Our fears are true; Akavir is preparing to invade. I have heard from the Argonians; King Saken Calissius has also foiled an attempt on his life. Of the Aldmeri Dominion, I do not know. And you may have noticed that the four legions I have on standby are four of the seven fully combat ready ones. I want you to keep the First Legion on its way to Daggerfall. PLEASE DO NOT STRAY OFF COURSE. The First Legion cannot be lost in this coming storm. There is a chance you will run into the Tenth Legion, but do not halt them; they are on the list of ones to be ready to fight._

_Signed, Cassius_

Julius stuck that note in his pocket too, and sent the courier away, handing him a sum of gold for his troubles. He walked past his assembled troops, and over to Legate Iancan. He was conflicted; an invasion of Tamriel was imminent, in his eyes. Hopefully, the Argonian king was taking more drastic action. But Julius knew why Cassius Septim was being cautious: the Empire was still weakened. The Legions, which there were thirty of, did not have enough men at the time. Too many men were at home, rebuilding their homes.

Skyrim was not untouched; the Thalmor army up north had laid siege to the city of Dawnstar, slaughtering many of the inhabitants. It was only when the First and Tenth Legions, led by Generals Ridarius and Rikke, respectively, stormed the town that the war finally came to a close.

"Legate, have the men begin the march. We march to High Rock immediately," Julius ordered.

"Sir, may I ask a question?" asked the Redguard.

"Yes, what is it?"

"What was that letter about? The messenger made it seem urgent," said Legate Iancan.

Julius leaned in, and whispered, "There has been an assassination attempt on the Emperor."

"Their mistake, for the Emperor is a damn fine warrior!" said Legate Iancan.

Julius looked at him sternly, and then said, "The assassin was a Tsaesci... from Akavir."

The Redguard went wide-eyed.

"That.. that must mean.." he began.

"And there has also been an attempt on the Argonian king. They are trying to take down our leadership. Scatter us, before they invade," said Julius.

Legate Iancan shook his head, "Then we must be ready. And by the Nine, the First Legion is ready!"

"The Emperor has forbidden me from moving the Legion into Cyrodiil," sighed Julius.

"If you want my opinion, sir, I think that going to High Rock is idiotic. Stay in Skyrim, we should. Protect the people here," said the Legate.

"No. The Emperor has given me an order, and it is my duty to fulfill it," Julius said.

"Give the order to move. We follow the western road, it's a straight shot for the Breton homeland," he added.

...

General Ridarius did not lie. By nightfall, the Legion was just inside High Rock, having passed through Skyrim during the day. The men were showered with gifts as they stopped in Markarth for an hour, and given drink by the roadside taverns. Passing into High Rock, Julius ordered that the men march through the night, hoping to reach Daggerfall by midday to late afternoon.

...

It was 4 P.M. Julius was tired as the Legion came down the road, approaching the top of a hill overlooking the Breton capital of Daggerfall. The men were weary, but somewhat excited. The people of Daggerfall were wealthy, and had pride in their membership of the Empire. The Breton girls were beautiful, and would surely ogle the war heroes of the First Legion. As the sun crept up behind them, they came over the hill, revealing the sprawling metropolis of Daggerfall in front of them. The iconic Castle Daggerfall towered above the city, its banners flapping in the wind. Birds chirped and flew around, and rabbit ran across the grass next to the road. Down the road, the great city gates lay closed, and guards stood outside, watching the Legion come over the hill.

"Alright, here we go!" shouted Julius.

"Banners!" yelled Legate Iancan.

The flag-bearers rose the banners of the Empire and the First Legion, which was a red flag, a yellow dragon, and a single black sword in the middle of the dragon. The men marched in unison, not a step out of line, with their general leading them. As the nine thousand men came down, the gate guards stepped in front.

Ridarius reached them, and shouted, "Halt!"

The Legion stopped at once.

The lead guard, a middle aged Breton, walked up to Julius and said, "Name and business?"

"I am General Julius Ridarius, First Imperial Legion. The Emperor has sent us here," Julius explained.

"For what purpose?" asked the guard, clearly confused.

"Surely you have received a message or something, telling you of our stationing?" asked Julius.

The guard slowly shook his head. He turned to a younger guard and said, "Manhans, ring the bell for the Commander."

The younger guard nodded, and then ran into a nearby gatehouse. He climbed up a ladder, and got to the top of the wall. Then, a massive bell began clanging four times, and then two more times. Five minutes passed, and the gates cracked open. A tall, young Breton came out, and looked at the General

His eyes lit up.

"Julius?!"

"Thornerto!" Julius yelled, approaching the general and then hugging him.

"I haven't seen you since the liberation of Bravil! How have you been?!" asked the guard commander.

"Oh, I've been alright. My Legion and I have been assigned here, on order of the Emperor!" said Julius.

"The Septim?! He's done a damned fine job," Thornerto said.

"Yes, he's been a close friend since we were children," Julius said.

Thornerto looked around, and said, "Get your Legion inside! We'll all go to the Castle and catch up."

...

Daggerfall put the Imperial City to shame in terms of grandiose and glamour. The people were friendly, and even tossed down flowers to the moving soldiers. There were a lot more people in this city, numbering more than the entire Imperial Legion. Going to Castle Daggerfall was a short march, and Julius allowed the soldiers to walk casually, instead of strict marching. When they got to the Castle, the men were shown their barracks, and were then set to do whatever they pleased in the town. Thornerto and Julius went up into the castle.

The Imperial kicked his feet up onto the massive wooden table, and smiled at a maiden who set a goblet filled with wine next to him. On the table were a few coins, and a map of Tamriel. A basket filled with bread, ham, and cheese was in the middle, which the Breton commander was actively indulging in. Julius pulled out his pipe, and began smoking from it.

"So how's your posting been, old friend?" asked the general.

Thornerto took a bite of bread, and said, "It's been quiet. We haven't had a murder for six months, and before that, a year."

"Two murders in a year and a half? That's insanity," said Julius, puffing out smoke.

"No, it's perfect. And theft rarely happens. People here are happy. They know they have it good compared to most," said Thornerto.

"So why has your Legion been transferred here, Legate? Err, I mean general?" asked Thornerto, smiling.

"Well, I'm sure you know about the reason why the Argonians joined in the war, right?"

"Yeah, because Akavir was going to collide with Tamriel, and because they didn't want Tamriel to be in a war if the things in Akavir invaded," Thornerto said.

Julius chuckled, and said, "Well, I'm sure you didn't know that a Tsaesci tried to kill the Emperor."

Thornerto squinted.

"Prove that," he said, thinking Julius was kidding.

But Julius pulled out the note that proved it, and handed it to the Breton.

After Thornerto was finished reading it, he said, "Impossible. Does this mean..?"

"I think it means war's coming. The Emperor's called four of the Legions to Cyrodiil, to be sent into Argonia if fighting breaks out. One of them's the Tenth," Julius explained.

"Ah, Marese's boys. They'd hold the line themselves!"

"Yeah, they're also one of the seven fully manned Legions," Julius said casually.

"Good one," remarked the Breton commander.

"I'm not joking," said Julius sternly.

Thornerto's face went white, and his expression had that of someone saying 'oh'.

"How many Legions are in High Rock?" asked Julius, taking a drink of wine.

"Just one. It's the Twentieth, though," said Thornerto.

The Twentieth Legion was formed under Titus Mede III, during his mobilization of the armies before he was assassinated. It distinguished itself during the siege of Skingrad, and was almost destroyed, if it weren't for the Sixth Legion. However, it's numbers were just over a thousand, and mostly rookies.

"Ouch," Julius remarked.

"It's not all bad. High Rock would be hard to take, and Daggerfall would be an entire war in itself," said Thornerto.

"It is now that my men are here," Julius joked.

The two shared a laugh, and took a drink of wine.

"So, what happened to that hero.. the Champion, I think it was?" asked the Breton.

Julius finished his gulp of wine, and swallowed, raising the glass as a 'thanks for reminding me.'

"He's somewhere in the Nibenay Valley. Nobody's heard from him officially since the end of the war," said Julius.

"Surely he can't have just dropped off the map?"

"Never said he did. He has visitors occasionally. He just doesn't go to the cities at all."

"Ah. Well, he was a big help in the war. The Dragonborn too," Thornerto said.

"The Dragonborn's the complete opposite. He's been in Cyrodiil for most of the past three years, and when he wasn't, he was in Solitude. He's quite involved with the reconstruction. I think he actually has finished what he's wanted to accomplish," Julius explained.

"Where is he?"

"I think he said he was going back to Whiterun, but I'm not sure. Lucky bastard's got properties in all the Holds!" laughed Julius.

Thornerto laughed, and popped a slice of cheese into his mouth.

"What, uh, what are you planning on doing here?" he asked with his mouth full.

Julius shrugged, and said, "I dunno. Maybe help with guards, as if there's anything to help with."

Thornerto snorted, and laughed.

At that, a guard came into the room, and said, "Commander Gesten, do you want me to send out the new shift?"

"Ah, yes. That would be splendid, and would you give the men a little bit more food, for this one night?" Thornerto Gesten said.

The guard nodded, saluted, and left.

"Extra food? It must be abundant here," Julius commented.

"Yes, we have a bit too much food," said Thornerto.

Julius' jaw dropped.

"Two hundred thousand people, and you have too much?!"

"There are a lot of farms around here, if you haven't noticed. And by too much, I mean we have extra," said Thornerto.

"Oh, well that makes it sound better," Julius said.

"I should show you to your room. Follow me," Thornerto said.

As the night fell on the city of Daggerfall, a storm rolled in. Rain fell from the sky, and thunder blew out any other noise. General Ridarius and his men were tired after a two day continuous march, and they had earned a rest.


	4. Bunat I

He sat on the bench pressed against the side of a stone house, and leaned back against the wall, inhaling through his nostrils. Letting the breath out, he opened his eyes and looked straight forward at the little girl that stopped in front of him. He looked at her, opening his eyes further. She just stared at him, and then walked away before he could say anything. It was typical of the new residents of Thorn. There were a couple of Imperials or Bretons in the city, but never so many as now.

Bunat was no racist; he fought in the First Great War for the Empire, but he held no allegiance to them. At the wrong place at the wrong time he was, and was given the option of either military service or death. Obviously he chose military service. On the fields of Kvatch is where he would have done battle, had he been at the front of the line and had the elves put up a fight.

Ever since the attempt on King Saken Calissius' life there was an influx of Imperial soldiers into the province, more specifically Thorn. Of course, they were not the four or five legions that were on standby, but simply "extra" troops that the Empire sent in. To him, it reeked of annexation. But King Saken was a prideful leader; he wouldn't let his nation fall.

Bunat understood why the Emperor would want many troops in Argonia. He was a Septim, and would be damned if he let Tamriel fall under his nose.

Bunat was taller than the average Argonian, though not as tall as a Nord or a High Elf. His military service helped him become stronger, and that led to his current profession: mercenary.

He did have a code of honor, though. He would never take a job that involved harming children, at least if they weren't attacking him. He would also never harm the innocent. For three and a half years he fought to protect innocents in the Great War, and he wasn't about to hurt them now.

Just a short distance away lay the Black Pass: the path to Akavir. A wall stood there, and none dared go within sight of it. Bunat had seen it once, with a friend a year after the two continents met, and lost that friend to a sudden earthquake. The walls were high and dark, blending in perfectly with the mountains it stands among. He could not tell where the gates were, if there were any.

A tavern was right across the square, among a small row of shops, all made of stone. Thorn was an old city, though it was a tiny village before Tiber Septim united Tamriel. After that, Thorn was subject to Imperial architecture. Sure, most of the population were Argonian, but the Imperial aesthetic was always present.

The sun was going down quickly, and Bunat needed rest. He had been to the _Elegant Adventurer Inn_ before, but never to stay the night.

He got up, and walked across the square, dodging running children and town guard. As he approached the inn, raindrops began to fall from the sky. Distant thunder boomed, and people started to get inside. Lucky for Bunat, he had a place to stay that night.

Bunat pushed the door inside, and almost walked right into a Khajit carrying two mugs of beer.

"Excuse me," said Bunat instinctively.

The Khajit glared at him, and then continued to his table.

Bunat walked over to the counter, where the innkeeper stood, cleaning out a mug and talking to a few patrons; they looked like soldiers. Argonian, they were, just like most of the people in the tavern. The very back of the inn, behind the innkeeper, was dominated by Imperial Legionnaires, laughing loudly and singing prideful songs.

"That storm rolled in quite quickly," the innkeeper said, quickly glancing at Bunat, who took a seat on a stool.

One of the patrons replied, "Aye, and there was naught but a cloud in the sky half an hour ago."

"Strange forces are at work here, I swear. What'll it be?" the innkeeper said, before turning to Bunat.

"Just a pint of mead, please," Bunat said.

The innkeeper nodded, and filled a mug with mead, the drink foaming over the top. He handed the cup to Bunat, who immediately took a large drink.

"Anyways, I bet you the Dominion's got something to do with these storms all the time, with their magic and all," said another patron.

"I do not believe that the elves would change the weather all the way in the northeast corner of Black Marsh for any good reason other than to piss us off," said Bunat.

"Well, what else could cause this strange weather? I've lived here my entire life, and have never seen such weather," the patron replied.

Bunat shrugged, finishing his pint with a small burp.

"I hear that there may be more Imperials coming here soon," said a patron sitting to Bunat's right, glaring at the Legionnaires in the back.

The innkeeper turned his head slightly, and said, "About four entire legions are to come if we are invaded."

"Hah!" laughed a customer, "As if! We don't need their help! It was Argonia who saved the Empire, not themselves!" He made sure the Legionnaires could hear him.

Bunat scowled at his fellow Argonian and said, "Tone it down a notch. There are too many of them for you to start a fight."

"More mead?" asked the innkeeper, trying to distract his rowdy customer.

"Yes, and some soup if you have some. Any kind will do," Bunat requested.

The innkeeper reached under the counter, and pulled out a steaming hot wooden bowl, filled with vegetable soup.

As Bunat began eating, the thunder outside started getting louder, and the rain hit harder.

Looking up, the innkeeper remarked, "Good thing this place is made of stone. Thanks Cyrodiil."

"You're quite welcome," an Imperial soldier said, popping around the counter with an empty mug.

"What can I do for you?" asked the innkeeper, slight disdain in his tongue.

"Just a quick refill. This is a nice place you have here," the Imperial said, trying to be polite.

"It'll be even nicer when you Imperials are gone," the patron to Bunat's right sneered.

The Imperial raised an eyebrow, and said, "Pardon me?"

The Argonian got up, and said, "I said get out of our lands, outsider!"

The crack of the Imperials fist connecting with the patron's face came at the same time as a strike of thunder. The poor patron was on the ground, out cold.

"Sorry for that," the soldier said, shaking his fist out.

The innkeeper rolled his eyes and handed the soldier his mead, and then ushered him away.

"I think I'm going to take a room for the night," Bunat said.

"Alright, take the one to the left of the Imperial horde. Pay me in the morning," the innkeeper said, handing Bunat his key and a complimentary sweet roll.

Bunat nodded, and walked away from the counter, towards the large group of soldiers. He stuck his key into the slot, and twisted it, the door clicking as it unlocked. He pushed inside, closing the door behind him. There was a single window in the room, though it was fogged up by the rain, and new drops hit it every second. One candle lit the room, sitting on a bedside table. Next to the candle was a copy of _The Triumph of Argonia_, a book written by a soldier during the Great Tamrielic War.

The mercenary set his sword down by the bed, and took off his leather boots. He laid down and closed his eyes, quickly drifting off into sleep.

...

He awoke to the sounds of yelling and screaming.

Bunat jumped out of bed and looked out the window only to see nothing but fog. He clipped on his sword and put on his boots. His leather armor wasn't amazing, but it would surely do good against whatever was happening. If it were bandits, they would surely be destroyed by the combined might of the Imperial soldiers and the guards. But then it couldn't be bandits, for the yelling was right outside.

He burst through the door, into the main room. The tables and chairs were all overturned, and the tavern was largely empty, aside from a half dozen Argonians placing assorted items against the door. The innkeeper was among them.

"What's going on?!" asked Bunat, his hand rested on his sword's hilt.

The innkeeper turned to him and said, "Thorn is under attack."

"By what, bandits?"

"I have no idea what they are. An Imperial came by and told us to barricade the inn," said another Argonian.

Bunat looked at them and said, "I must get out there. Keep someone at the back door, and if they hear three quick knocks, get everyone out through the back."

The innkeeper shook his head and said, "Fine."

The people pulled back the furniture and cracked the door open to where Bunat could slip through. They closed the door behind him.

All around him was a city on fire. Guards stood at the street entrances to the square, firing arrows blindly down the roads. In the center were about half of the Imperial soldiers; their armor was dented, and their swords dirty. All of the men's faces were dirty with mud and blood. Bunat unsheathed his sword and ran over to a nearby guard that was organizing a small team of three.

"What in Oblivion is happening here?!" he shouted.

The lizard-man looked at him, fear in his expression, and said, "They came from everywhere! Our commander tried to organize the guard but their numbers were too many and he fell! We're going to try and hold the city here!"

"Who?!" demanded Bunat.

The guard shook his head in every direction, his eyes wide open. Just then, a flaming rock screamed over, slamming into a wooden house, setting it ablaze.

Women and children ran to the south, trying to get out of the city.

The Legionnaires then split into four groups, each going to a different street and forming a shield wall.

"Come on! We must defend against the foes!" Bunat yelled, rallying the men.

He took off towards the northeast street, the four guards following. When they got there, they saw the road in flames, all the buildings burning. Faint silhouettes were seen at the end of the road, where the guards fired arrows at anything that moved. The Imperials advanced slowly, swords at the ready. Bunat pressed through, and waved his sword forward, calling for a counterattack.

Just then, a home to their right exploded, sending soldiers flying in every direction. Bunat slammed against a wall, blood running down his snout. Just then, a war cry rose from the enemy, and they came down the street, catching the Argonian advance at a weak spot.

The building Bunat was pressed against then was hit, making the wall fly out from behind him. The stone covered the mercenary, and he fell into a quick bout of unconsciousness.

When his eyes opened, he saw the guard getting slaughtered by a hail of arrows. The remainder of the soldiers fell back into the square.

Bunat coughed, and tried to get up. He pushed a piece of debris off of him, and turned over, panting. He looked to his side, and saw a single figure approaching, wielding a long spear.

It slid on a single tail, weaving back and forth. It had a steel breastplate and greaves, and no helmet. At first glance of its head, one would mistake it for an Argonian, but they would be mistaken. Though it looked the same, there were two long, sharp fangs hanging from its mouth.

It raised its spear to drop down on Bunat, but missed by an inch when the Argonian rolled out of the debris, snatching up his sword. He swung it at the thing's spear, the two weapons meeting with a _clang!_ Knowing he was weak, Bunat simply stunned the creature with a kick, and struggled to run back into the square, falling to his knees when he reached it.

_The inn!_ he thought, remembering what he told the people inside.

He scampered around the back of the inn, watching as dozens of the creatures poured into the square, cutting down the waiting Argonian and Imperial troops. Women and children were slaughtered indiscriminately, as though they themselves fought. Some got away, running into the marshes.

Bunat got to the door, and knocked three times. No response.

Three more times.

No answer.

"Damn!" shouted Bunat, knocking over and over again.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and the face of the innkeeper greeted him.

"Oh, thank the Gods! It's you! Come, we are leaving!" he shouted to the people inside.

More than a dozen and a half people came out of the inn, into the war-zone of a city.

"Come on! We must go, now!" cried Bunat, pointing at the marshes just a few blocks away, where the battle hadn't touched.

The group ran through the streets, where they heard the other survivors getting massacred.

They did not know that they were the only survivors.

As they broke into the tree line, they were ambushed by the creatures. More than two thirds of the group were killed, and the remainder, being Bunat, the innkeeper, and two others, dashed further into the marshes. They were not pursued.

"Go! Go! Keep running! To Stormhold we run!" cried Bunat to the three survivors of Thorn.


	5. Marese I

The heavy wooden door creaked as it swung open, rays from the sun seeping inside the dark room. Stepping in was a tall Nord woman, with moderately long brown hair. She closed the door behind her and walked further into the well lit room. The banner of the Empire hung from multiple spots on the wall, and two legionnaires stood on either side of the small opening into the main part of the room, staring at her. She nodded at them and brushed past, into the main room. Around the main table were four people, two being Imperials, one a Breton, and then a High Elf. In each corner was a guard, heavily armed and armored.

The man standing at the head of the table looked at the woman and said, "Ah, Marese. Glad you made it."

She knelt down and bowed her head, saying, "By your honor, Emperor Cassius."

Cassius smiled and raised his palm, her following it up with her body. She walked over to the table and asked, "So what's the situation?"

"Well, General Rikke, we were just about to talk about that," said Cassius.

"I hope this isn't for nothing," said the High Elf, General Yarmen Faeal.

The Breton, General Glovagan Jasnt, nodded, "Aye, my Legion was doing training out in Hammerfell with the Crowns. Was going well, till your message came along."

Emperor Cassius nodded and then spoke, "As the message said, I was almost killed by a Tsaesci. One from Akavir. The King of Argonia's life was also almost ended, had his guards not been in the room. He and I have decided to honor our agreement from the end of the War. When the Akaviri invade, you four will lead your legions into Black Marsh, and kick those bastards out of Tamriel!"

Marese shook her head, "The Legions are far to underpowered! Should the foreigners invade, there is no way we can stem the tide!"

"We'd be buying time for the others to get up to full strength, Rikke," said General Decius Adarian, rolling his eyes.

"Obviously, but wouldn't it be better if we hold back, and strike when they enter the boundaries of the Empire?" Marese asked.

Cassius shook his head, and said, "No. We have to stop them before they even reach us."

"That is if they actually invade," Decius said.

Cassius grumbled.

"Where is High General Tullius?" asked General Faeal.

"He is in Skyrim, down in Blackreach, with the Dwemer leader," said Cassius.

"Oh yes, what about the dwarves? Shouldn't they fight?" asked Marese.

"It is not our duty to drag them into this war," said Decius.

"I was talking to the Emperor, Adarian," Marese sneered.

The Imperial growled, as the Emperor held up his hand.

"General Adarian is correct, as we hold no jurisdiction over the dwarves. We shall be in this fight alone," said Cassius, shaking his head.

"Where would we be deployed?" asked General Jasnt.

Cassius placed his finger on Helstrom, in the center of Black Marsh, and began tapping, "There. When you reach Helstrom, King Saken Calissius will decide on what to do with you."

"So we're being put under the control of the Argonians?" asked General Faeal.

Cassius nodded.

Decius was visibly upset.

"So you are saying that we are no longer soldiers of the Empire, but rather pawns of the Argonians?! Bah! What a joke this is!" he shouted.

"It was they who saved the Empire in the War, General Adarian," said General Faeal.

Decius started laughing, "But the war is over! Let them fend for themselves!"

"No!" yelled Cassius.

Decius walked away from the table, "Count the Sixth Legion out of your little endeavor, then."

He left the room, nobody stopping him.

"I really do not like that man," said Cassius.

"Aye, he is a problem," said Glovagan.

"Let him go, he is no threat," Cassius said.

The four looked back down at the table, the guards all facing the exit, watching Decius stamp down the stairs, grumbling.

Cassius rolled his eyes and said, "General Rikke, you said in your letter that you had news?"

Marese held up a finger and said, "Ah! Thank you, yes. There has been a rise in recruitment for the Tenth Legion, but we simply don't have enough equipment to outfit them all. I think that we should take all new recruits from the seven or so legions that are fully manned and transfer them to those less ready for war."

The Emperor rubbed his chin, and said, "That sounds reasonable. I shall send a message to High General Tullius; he'll spread the word."

"We must call on the Dominion to fulfill their end of the peace treaty. Surely they would follow the terms!" said General Vaeal.

"I shall, when the Akaviri invade," said Cassius.

Just then, the sound of frantic footsteps rattled up the tower, and heavy coughing followed. The door to the room swung open, and an Argonian burst inside, falling into the arms of a guard. The guard helped the lizard-man to his feet and handed him a canteen. The Argonian nodded courteously to him and drank out of it, smiling as the cold liquid ran down his throat. He stumbled over to the table and coughed, "Emperor Cassius Septim! Argonia is under attack!"

Cassius snapped his gaze toward the panting Argonian and said, "Pardon?!"

The Argonian threw the note down on the table and panted, "Yes, just a night ago! By what, we do not know! Nothing has happened besides the total destruction of Thorn!"

"That... that is quite close to the Black Pass..," muttered General Jasnt.

"How do you know?!" asked Cassius.

"A trading caravan approaching the city found it in flames. They turned and went to Helstrom. I was sent immediately," said the Argonian.

Marese and Cassius' eyes met, and Marese nodded slightly.

"Is that not the city where the Empire had soldiers stationed?" asked General Vaeal.

The courier nodded.

"If this is an Akaviri invasion, then you need to get your Legions mustered and ready to move by tomorrow!" the Emperor said to his generals.

After that was said, General Decius Adarian walked back into the room, holding his helmet. He strode over to the table, and said, "I apologize for my behavior. I... was not thinking and when I saw the frantic Argonian I knew something was happening."

Cassius nodded.

"Generals, get your Legions ready for war," said the Emperor, as the generals filed out.

...

"Legion! Atten-shun!"

Over fifty ranks of one hundred soldiers snapped their feet together, and their eyes went straight forward. The hot Cyrodiil sun beat down on their thick metal and leather armor, and due to their position, taking drinks of water was strictly off limits. One Dunmer legionnaire coughed, and then his gaze quickly went forward again. General Rikke sat in front of them on a pale white horse, her black plumes bristling in the slight breeze. Her Legates walked around, looking at the formation. The Sixth and Second Legions were already marching down the Red Ring Road, their drums beating the marching cadence.

"Leeeeeeft... face!" Marese shouted, her soldiers immediately turning and facing the left.

"Forward, march!"

The ranks began stepping forward, the right legs going out first, quickly followed by the left. The drums started to kick up, as the Legion picked up energy.

Legate Fasendil rode up next to the Nord, keeping up with her quick pace.

"Legate?" she greeted, turning her head slightly to face him.

"Do you think it's worth it, General? Do you think we should be fighting for the Argonians?" asked the Altmer, cocking his golden head to the side.

"I don't know, my friend. This could be the end of Tamriel as we know it, should we fail," she replied.

"We beat the Thalmor, we can beat these guys," said Fasendil.

"Yes.. yes we can. And yes we shall," said Marese.


	6. Veszerech I

The huge brass doors made a loud noise as they were pulled inside, a small amount of mist seeping out into the stone hallway. Rolling out behind it were two mechanical beings rolling on a single ball, a lone living being following them. They led him down the corridor, peeling off when he reached the end. The torches illuminating the hall burnt brightly, waking up the lone mer. The doors in front of him opened, and two guards in full battle armor stood on either side, holding a long spear. He nodded at them, and looked out onto the massive underground city around him. His people wandered the streets, and the smell of fresh food imported from the surface rose from the bottom of the city. Coming up the ramp was one of his kin, a dark skinned elf, with a long black beard. His hair was braided, and he wore clothing of a noble class.

"Lord Veszerech," the noble said, bowing.

"Ah, Duke Mezwelgir, of Mzulft. What can I assist you with today?" said Veszerech, a blank expression on his face.

Mezwelgir rose, and said, "My finest scientists have drafted plans for a mass transit network that could connect all of the cities."

"I shall bring it to the Council of Six, and we shall overlook it at midday."

Veszerech brushed past the noble, going down the path to the city. Mezwelgir followed him, staying a couple feet behind.

"How was your slumber, my lord?" asked the noble.

"Twas good, I completed the second volume of the book series about the history of the surface Empire," said Veszerech.

"The only empire that matters to us is the Dwemer empire!" exclaimed Mezwelgir.

Veszerech chuckled, and said, "Aye, we are superior."

The two continued down, watching citizens wander around aimlessly.

"Mere shadow of what we used to be," Veszerech commented.

"We will rise again," said the nobleman.

"That we shall," said the Lord of the Dwemer.

When they reached the bottom of the path, Mezwelgir parted from Veszerech, and went a different way. Veszerech strode down one of the many stone paths towards the main market, constructed from some surface material. Of course, there was some Dwemer architecture, but the surface supplies were used for the shop stands, and things of that sort. A massive Centurion golem walked past him, taking heavy strides that shook the ground. At the opposite end was Dardorth, the great fortress of the Dwemer army and home of the Council of Six. Citizens bowed as Veszerech passed, pausing in their activities to pay homage to their leader.

He was one of the few that remained in Mundas after the disappearance of his people. Before the battle of Red Mountain, Dumac, the king of the Dwemer, had Veszerech placed in a slumber to lead his race should anything go awry. As history showed, it did. It was only thought that one Dwemer remained, that being Yagrum Bagarn, who was in Oblivion at the time. How Veszerech did not vanish, he did not know. Nor did the other five hundred who did not.

When he woke up, he was contacted by the Altmer, more specifically a nation called the Aldmeri Dominion. Their ambassador was not a very kind guest, so Veszerech destroyed not only her, but her guard. Only a Chimer escaped, but apparently they were called Dunmer now.

The Dwemer did not enjoy sharing the same blood as the mer, due to the fact that the Dwemer were clearly superior.

Men, on the other hand, were a mixed bag. They had left the Dwemer alone, besides trade and things like that. As a matter of fact, their military was in Blackreach, at Dardorth.

And that was where Veszerech was heading.


	7. Tullius I

High General Tullius sat at the massive stone table, tapping his index fingers together, trying to pass the time. He had two guards with him, both being Nords from the Tenth Legion. He was here to meet with the Dwemer leader, to discuss security and a possible alliance. Most in the Empire considered Tullius to be the most brilliant tactician at their disposal, which Tullius brushed off as him simply doing his job. Wherever Tullius was, he won. But he was no arrogant man; arrogance spelled downfall for many.

The doors to the room clicked and then opened, six soldiers clad in brass Dwemer armor coming in. A dwarf in armor but without a helmet strode in behind them, quickly sitting down at the chair opposite Tullius. Tullius shook himself awake, and his guard snapped to attention. Tullius himself got up, saluted, and said, "I am humbled to be in the presence of such a noble leader."

The dwarf smiled, revealing a bright white set of teeth, and rose.

"Pleasure to meet you, General Tullius," he said, taking a seat.

Tullius nodded, and sat back down. He pulled out many pieces of paper, setting them in front of him.

"What do you want to discuss first, Lord..?"

"Veszerech.. my name is Veszerech. Let us first talk about my peoples' rights in these lands," said Veszerech.

Unexpected, but a suitable topic for Tullius to talk about.

"Ah, yes. We haven't seen much of your people out on the surface," said Tullius.

"Yes, but many of you come down to our lands, as though we have no rights," said Veszerech.

"And for that I do apologize. There has been a motion by the Dragonborn that is being debated in the Elder Council right now, on whether your people are subjected to Imperial law or not," said Tullius, who regretted what he had just said.

Veszerech rose an eyebrow, and said, "Well of course we aren't. But if a Dwemer is on the surface, they are to respect your laws. Down here, however, is Dwemer territory. Feel gracious that we let your people keep the city of Markarth, you should be."

"The Elder Council is not always reliable," Tullius replied.

"At least you're not the Altmer," said Veszerech, laughing after he said that.

"Oh? Do tell," Tullius said.

"Well, representatives of the Aldmeri Dominion say they need Dwemer assistance on their project called the Numidium. It was an attempt to recreate our greatest construction. Surely you know of it?"

Tullius nodded, "Aye, it was massive. Slaughtered many men, were it not for the Dragonborn."

Veszerech continued, "An Altmer woman by the name of Elenwen approached me, very rudely, might I add. She brought thirty or so of her finest soldiers with her. Grave mistake on her part. I killed her and her soldiers, with the help of some Dwemer creations."

"I cannot make the Council pass the measure, but I can give them your input on it. Personally, I think that you dwarves are just as equal as I. Many are just spooked that you come back out of nowhere," said Tullius.

Veszerech nodded in understanding, and said, "How is your army doing? I know of what you fear."

Tullius sighed, and said, "We have thirty legions. Of that, about seven are fully combat ready. Four are on standby, should anything happen with Akavir. One is on their way to High Rock, and the other two are doing other things."

"Oh, things have happened, my friend."

"Hmm?" asked Tullius.

"My people are... quite informed and inquisitive. Your leader was nearly killed. So was the leader of those... things in the marshes," sneered Veszerech.

"So you spy on us?"

"No. We are just good listeners," said the dwarf.

"They're called Argonians, by the way," said Tullius.

"Whatever," said Veszerech, crossing his arms loosely.

Tullius picked up a scrap of parchment, and said, "Here I have a letter intercepted from a High Elf spy to a collaborator, stating that your people were poised to attack the Empire right after the war. Is this true?"

"It was the only way to get information out of the damned Altmer," replied Veszerech.

"Information about what?"

"Their army. Do you know how many of my people died during the incident in the north of Skyrim?" asked Veszerech.

"I know that two cities were scoured," replied Tullius.

"Thirty two hundred. All dead. We are not going to reclaim those cities. They will forever be a memorial to the massacre," said the dwarf lord.

"You got your revenge though," said Tullius, grinning slightly. His guards chuckled.

Veszerech nodded, and laughed, saying, "Killed seven thousand of them in one night. Shows you not to make the Dwemer angry."

"Point taken," Tullius chuckled.

"Anyways, we wanted to know how large their army was, just in case a war between our peoples broke out," said Veszerech.

"Ah. There is one other thing; Emperor Cassius Septim has given me an offer for you, just let me find it," said Tullis, thumbing through his papers, until he picked one out.

"It is a request for Imperial troops to assist your civilization in any times of need," he said.

"I reject your offer. My people can hold their own quite fine without you nosing down our backs," said Veszerech, sticking out his palm in protest.

Tullius grumbled.

"What if, say, Akavir attacks you?" asked the Imperial.

"Then we beat them," Veszerech snapped.

"I like your confidence, Lord Veszerech, but that could be your downfall," said Tullius.

"It isn't confidence, it's fact. The Dwemer simply have the greatest army on Nirn," said Veszerech.

Tullius nodded slowly, and rolled his eyes.

"If that is all, General Tullius, I shall take my leave," said Veszerech. He got up, and left the chamber with his guards, leaving the Imperial and his men alone.

"Well, that was fun," remarked one of his guards.

"Stow it," ordered Tullius, shoving his papers into his rucksack. At that, he and his troop left Blackreach, to the surface world.

...

The three horses sped down the roads, passing the city of Whiterun, which had smoke trails rising from the smithy's inside the walls. Outside the city, a couple of carts sat, waiting for people to board. Off in the plains, Tullius saw a trio of hunters bring down a mighty mammoth and begin to skin it. The trees rustled in the breeze, cool air washing over the Imperial's already cold face. He looked to his left, and saw two figures come out of the forest, one of them staggering. They wore the armor of the Legion.

"Hold up. Those guys look like legionnaires," said Tullius, stopping his horse. He then went off the road, towards the two men.

When he got to them, the staggering one said, "Hey hey, look! It's General Tullius! How are you doing, buddy?"

"Are you drunk, soldier?" asked Tullius.

The other one stepped forward, and said, "Aye, sir. We were on patrol two nights ago, and... and we got confronted by these things. Looked like Argonians, but they... slid. Like snakes."

Tullius dismounted his horse, his two men staying on theirs.

"What are your names?" he asked.

"I'm Rodgir, and this is Elbor," said the sober one.

"Where in Oblivion are we?" muttered Elbor.

"We're back on the plains, Elbor," said Rodgir, punching Elbor in the arm.

"You said they looked like Argonians?" asked Tullius.

Rodgir nodded.

Just then, two Whiterun guards rode up, and one asked, "General Tullius, sir? Have you seen the Dragonborn? He hasn't been seen for two nights!"

"No, soldier. Where was...," began Tullius, before having a sudden revelation.

He grabbed Rodgir, and shaking him, said, "How many were there?! What were they armed with?! What did they wear?!"

Rodgir, stunned, thought hard, and said, "Umm... there were... ten! And... they just had swords, but they looked like something I'd never seen before, fine craft indeed! And they wore naught but cloaks. I could see their snouts though!"

"By the Nine..." whispered Tullius.

"What?!" asked one of the mounted guards.

"I need to get to Cyrodiil! All of this is connected! It is the Tsaesci at work! They are trying to kill everyone of power in Tamriel!"


	8. Ataurus II

Ataurus opened his eyes slowly and groaned loudly. He looked over and saw Danica Pure-Spring standing over him, a concerned look on her face. The Dragonborn sat up and scratched his head. He felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder, as though it was burning from the inside out. Using his one good arm, he grabbed the wound, and breathed heavily.

"Thank the Divines you are awake!" Danica exclaimed.

"Where... where am I?"

"You are in the Temple of Kynareth, friend. It has been a long while since you've been here last," said Danica.

The pain in his shoulder went away.

"How long have I been out?" asked the Dragonborn.

"Three days. A patrol found you off the road, screaming. They brought you here. Whatever attacked you really had power. You were poisoned very badly. You are lucky to be alive," Danica said, picking up a healing potion.

She held it out, and the Dragonborn took it, gulping it down in a single drink. Immediately he felt better.

"I know not what attacked me, but I have a good idea of what it was," Ataurus said, coughing.

"You should tell the Jarl if anybody. I would take it easy on the shoulder though," said Danica.

"Thank you, Danica. Did the guards bring my things?" asked Ataurus.

She pointed at a chest along the wall.

"Thank you once more," said Ataurus, getting out of the bed. Inside the chest were all of the things he had on him the night before. He slipped into his armor and sheathed his weapons before leaving the Temple of Kynareth and went towards Dragonsreach.

...

"Dragonborn," said Jarl Balgruuf, rising from his throne.

Ataurus walked towards him, looking around the massive room. His children sat at the dining table, eating beef stew.

"I am happy you are awake; we were all concerned for you," said Balgruuf.

"Jarl, what attacked me is something of concern to the entirety of Tamriel. They were Tsaesci," said Ataurus, standing right in front of the Jarl. Immediately Dragonsreach fell silent. The children stopped eating, and looked up at the Dragonborn. Proventus Avenicci, who was busy talking with Farengar, the Court Wizard, stopped talking, and his eyes went wide as he looked at Ataurus.

The Jarl, stunned, got up, and shakily said, "What?"

"Ten of them, all cloaked. Initially, I thought they were Argonians, but they slid on one tail and spoke a horrific language," Ataurus explained, nodding.

Balgruuf put his hand over his mouth and turned around, shaking his head.

"This is even worse, what with the news from Black Marsh," said Balgruuf.

"What happened?!"

"Some city in the northeast was destroyed, by powers unknown," Jarl Balgruuf said.

Just then, the great doors to Dragonsreach were pushed open, and High General Tullius came through, two legionnaires behind him. He walked up to the Jarl, and said, "These two men were attacked by Tsaesci."

The two soldiers clamored in front of him.

"What are your names?" asked Balgruuf.

"Rodgir.. and this is Elbor. Sorry, he is drunk," said the one on the left.

"You say you were attacked by Tsaesci? I was too," said the Dragonborn, turning towards them.

"I would stay, but I must be on my way to Cyrodiil," said Tullius, as he left.

"Yes, sir. Ten of them," said Rodgir.

"Were you actually attacked?" Ataurus asked.

"Well, kind of. They made us go into the forest. Were you?"

"Aye, I was. They shattered one of my best swords," said Ataurus.

Jarl Balgruuf inhaled through his nose, and said, "Tamriel is being invaded."

"Then what are we going to do about it?" asked Ataurus.

"I... I do not know. Fight. But maybe what happened in Black Marsh wasn't done by the Akaviri. Maybe what happened here is an isolated instance. Rogues," Balgruuf finally said after about thirty seconds of silence, turning to face the skull of Numinex, the great dragon once imprisoned there.

"Impossible, they were simply too well armed to be rogues," said Rodgir.

"And what would we know of their power? We haven't seen any Akaviri for centuries," said Balgruuf.

"Put your men on alert, Jarl. Keep your people safe," Ataurus suggested.

"Last I checked," said Balgruuf, turning his head to the right slightly and putting his hands behind his back, "Balgruuf, not Ataurus, was Jarl of Whiterun."

Ataurus stared at him, a stern look on his helmeted face.

"Fine then. I shall take my leave," said Ataurus, turning around and walking towards the exit of Dragonsreach.

"Dragonborn!" called Balgruuf.

Ataurus stopped.

"Talos guide you," Balgruuf said.

...

The Dragonborn walked down to Breezehome, collecting his things. He filled two backpacks and was coming downstairs to leave when he noticed a hooded figure sitting in a chair in front of the fire. Ataurus slowed, and set down his bags.

Drawing Red Eagle's Bane, he said, "Excuse me?"

The hood flew back, and the golden face of an Altmer came out from under it. She got up, and walked over to the Dragonborn, and said, "Dragonborn? I am Helne, of the Blades. Dire situation going on right now."

"Ah, Esbern sent you? Sit back down," Ataurus said, plopping down in a seat.

She sat down, and said, "I know you just came from Dragonsreach, and am sure the Jarl told you about what occurred in Black Marsh."

"Aye, he did. And I was attacked by some... things a few nights ago," said Ataurus.

Helne nodded, and said, "Black Marsh was attacked by Tsaesci. The Emperor has sent four whole Legions there to assist in the event of full scale invasion. Good idea, but he is neglecting that Black Marsh already is facing invasion."

"I'm sure the legions will do their job," said Ataurus.

"You do not understand. There were no survivors in Thorn. Thorn had many legionnaires, and all fell in just a single night," the Blade said.

"Bandits, potentially. Very organized bandits," Ataurus said quickly.

"Come on, Dragonborn. You know it to be true," said Helne.

Ataurus leaned forward, and said, "I can't save Tamriel myself."

"Of course not. Come to Sky Haven Temple as soon as possible," said Helne as she rose and swiftly left.

_Sky Haven Temple... hmph. Haven't been there since the war_, thought Ataurus as he got up. He slung his packs over his shoulders, and walked out of the house and into Whiterun. Shadowmere, his trusty horse gifted to him by the Dark Brotherhood, waited outside, as he happily jumped onto his back and rode away from the city.


End file.
